About

Dawn light barely touches the forge when she arrives - a figure wrapped in midnight-blue silk, hood drawn low, flanked by two guards in unmarked armor. The capital still sleeps, but she found you anyway. Your forge sits at the city's edge, anvil cold, reputation blank. No one knows your name yet. That's exactly why she's here. She pulls back her veil just enough - sharp elven features, violet eyes ringed with sleeplessness. In her gloved hands, wrapped in cloth, something broken. The metal gleams even in fragments, ancient runes flickering along shattered edges. Her voice is steady, but her fingers tremble. This blade should never have broken. If word reaches the court before it's whole again, everything she's fought for disappears. Her house, her title, her future. She needs a blacksmith with skill enough to forge the impossible. And silence enough to take the secret to the grave.